I think I'm drowning, intoxicated
by heigei
Summary: Chase finds Foreman sulking at a bar, completely wasted, in the middle of the week. Foreman blames it on the weather, Chase thanks his lucky star. Slash, Chase/Foreman. Oneshot.


**A/N**: My oh my, what do we have here.. another oneshot, eh? Chase/Foreman, eh? think you're pretty clever, ehhh? No, okay, I'm tired.  
Well, title is an altered quotation from "Time is running out" by Muse, and what they're really singing in the song is _"I think I'm drowning, Asphyxiated"_, but since Intoxicated is mentioned in the fic, I thought I'd use that instead.  
err.. slash, obviously. and rated K+ for, I dunno, language and alcohol? Not really sure how to label things, to be completely honest. As always: my english might be bad, the grammar might be out of place (since I'm swedish, and all) and the characters are PROBABLY a bit OOC, but give them credit: they're drunk.  
Also, I don't own the characters in any way.. just thought I'd might add that. Well.. enjoy!

_(pssst... this is probably one of my longest oneshots _ever_. sad, isn't it?)_

* * *

It was a late October night, and the streets were painted red and yellow with wet leaves. The town was still, no one were outside. Simply because it was raining. It was a heavy, hopeless rain; one of those that drown you, one of those preventing you from going home. And it was not pleasing him.

Knowing that he would be drinking later that evening, he left his car at the hospital parking lot, but now he felt like an idiot – the rain had been pouring down like this for two hours now.

He did not want to get wet; his jacket wasn't one of those water-proof ones, and his shoes? No way. They were way too expensive to walk all the way to his flat in this weather. Therefore he was drunk when Chase entered the bar.

Pretty fucking drunk, actually.

"A Carlsberg, please", Chase said to the bartender.

"One Carlsberg coming up", the bartender answered. Chase sat down beside Foreman, not noticing him at first, but when he did, he wasn't at all surprised.

"What do we have here", he remarked. Foreman turned his head to the right, staring at Chase for about a minute or two, and then smiling wryly.

"G'day mate", the black man said, in a weak attempt to mimic Chase's accent.

Chase got his beer and took a sip. He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter with both his arms folded inwards against his chest.

"Thought I'd find you here, sulking."

"'M not sulking."

"Yeah, right."

They sat like that for a while, both staring down their glasses, deep in thoughts. Chase cocked his head, smirking a little.

"Did Erica finally dump you", he asked, shooting Foreman a quick glance.

"I'm _not_ sulking", Foreman repeated, a tad more aggressive than before. He drank up the last of his drink, before asking the bartender for another one. He sighed.

"I'm just--"

"Drowning your sorrows in alcohol?"

"It's raining outside."

Foreman looked at Chase like that was a winning argument for drinking himself plastered on a Tuesday night.

"No shit Sherlock", Chase murmured through an amused grin, he could not deny that all this wasn't entertaining him. He shook his head and finished his beer. He never thought he would see Foreman drunk, never the less drunk in the middle of the week.

"I see that you're fluent in sarcasm", Foreman commented, lifting his right eyebrow. Chase studied his colleague with curiosity, like he never before seen him, well he hadn't, actually. Not in the dim light of a crowded bar, at least.

The uneasy silence between the two men deluged in the loud music floating through their bodies. Foreman did not look at Chase, as if he was afraid of scald his eyes. Chase, on the contraire, could not stop watching him.

"I see that you're still feeling sorry for yourself." He finally spoke, causing Foreman to jerk a little. He met the blonde Aussie's blue gaze, clearing his throat.

"What?" Chase smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts", he said instead of repeating what he just said, he was sure the other man had heard him. Foreman averted his eyes and looked at something far away.

"Fuck off." And with that he finished his eighth drink that night.

"Shall do", Chase replied, standing up. Foreman instantly looked at him.

"Where're you going", he asked, slurring a bit on his speech. Chase pointed towards the men's room.

"To the dunny." When Foreman gave him one of those what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about-looks of his, he added: "The can?"

"Oh, I'll come with."

Foreman tried to stand up, but failed miserably and fell to the floor in a pile of overindulgence. He groaned.

"Oh for crying out loud", Chase griped. He moved the stools away, and dragged Foreman to his feet. "I'll help you."

"Glllwbh", Foreman told the blonde one.

"I agree."

Chase walked Foreman to the bathroom, or no, it was more like dragging him to the bathroom, Foreman apparently decided that he had no feet. Chase muttered foul words all the way to the WC (to his big relief it was more or less empty) and then shoved him into a stall. He closed the stall door and not long after he heard a thump, and hoped that it was Foreman sitting down. Then he went into a stall himself.

He took a deep breath, and covered his face with his palms. He did not need this right now. He did _not_ need this right now. _He did not need this right now_.

"Chase?" Foreman's voice reached his ears, it was low and whimpering.

Chase counted to five in his head before answering.

"What is it Foreman?" he sighed. "And before you answer: no, I will not hold your penis so that you can pee."

He heard Foreman's muffled laughter, and smiled a little, but when Foreman didn't answer him back, the smile faded.

"Foreman?" he called out, without any reply. He got out of his stall and opened the door to the one Foreman occupied, just to find him asleep on the toilet. He walked in and closed the door behind him. He shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and then leaned down to wake him up.

"Hey, Foreman, wake up", he said. Nothing happened. "Come on mate, there's no use falling asleep in the loo, who knows what diseases you'll catch being in here for too long."

He looked around in the stall, shivering at his own words. Then he looked at his co-worker once more, and took hold of his shoulder, shaking it a little. Even though it wasn't all too effective, it did cause some kind of reaction from Foreman; he moaned.

"Seriously man, wake up." Chase finally lost his patience and slapped the man on the head. That certainly brought him back to life.

"Where 'm I", he croaked, looking utterly disoriented. Chase smiled dryly.

"In the lavatory." Foreman looked him in the eyes, frowning slightly. "And yes, it's still Tuesday.. I think. You need to puke? 'Cus it would be nice if you warned me first…"

"Robert."

Chase stared at him.

"Yes?"

"I need to talk to you."

Chase hesitated for a second.

"We're talking right now", he pointed out, forcing a smile onto his face. Foreman shook his head.

"No... or yes, we are, what I mean is", he paused, took a deep breath, and then smiled a little.

"You look _really_ sexy tonight."

Chase opened his mouth to say something, but before he actually had time to react, Foreman took a firm grip of Chase's neck, and forced his mouth to his.

The kiss was determined and intense, and Chase was completely taken off guard. When Foreman withdrew, Chase found himself still staring at the man, like a deer caught in the headlights. His cheeks were blushed.

"I'm sorry", Foreman said after a while, letting go of Chase's neck. He didn't say a word. Foreman grunted and leaned his face against his palms. "I should probably go."

He rose from the seat, still unsteady, and were about to walk out of the booth when Chase stopped him.

"I bet it's still raining outside", he said. Foreman shrugged.

"So?"

"You want a ride?"

Five minutes later they were both sitting in Chase's car on their way to Foremans apartment. Chase was staring at the drenched road in front of him and Foreman was staring at Chase's twisted reflection in the window.

He sighed.

"Look", he suddenly said, looking at the real Chase, "about what happened before… I--"

"You know", Chase interrupted him abruptly, still not taking his eyes off the road, "me walking into the same bar as you tonight was not by accident."

Foreman gaped blankly at him from his seat.

"Actually, I had to drive around quite a while before I found the right one, I might add that I was somewhat drunk when I decided to do so", he then continued, smiling vaguely.

"You were looking for me?"

"I was."

"Oh."

Stillness fell upon the two men, only disturbed by the low, constant noise of the car. Foreman once again turned his gaze to the window; he was slightly confused, the alcohol in his body refused to make any sense of what Chase had just told him. But, he wasn't really sure that he would be able to make something out of it even if he were sober.

Chase wasn't really sure what to make out of it, either. He too was drunk; he would not have had the courage to tell Foreman otherwise. And that in itself was quite sad, actually. He was a grown man, he should be able to deal with these sorts of things without it including huge amount of alcohol.

They soon pulled up at the parking lot outside of Foreman's apartment, and Chase stopped the car. He still held the steering wheel in a firm grip, his knuckles turning white. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything else.

"Well, here we are", he said, leaving the words to hang still in the thick air surrounding them.

Foreman said nothing.

"I should probably get going", Chase then added. Foreman nodded and put his hand on the handle, just to realize something.

Chase was drunk. He shouldn't be driving at all, and he should be smart enough to realize such a thing himself. But he wasn't, really. Foreman was, though, even in this moment of intoxication.

"Hey", he began, frowning while facing Chase, "you're drunk."

Chase looked at Foreman.

"I know that."

"Well you shouldn't be driving", he pointed out, still not getting out of the car, "you could get yourself killed."

Chase couldn't help but to smile at the man. "God you're a bore", the young Australian responded, averting his eyes.

"What's so exciting about death", Foreman wanted to know. He did not wait for an answer; instead, he hesitated for a moment, and then added quietly: "You could always spend the night at my house."

The proposal made Chase turn his face to Foreman again, and he stared at him silently for a while, he smiled. This brought some kind of comfort to the older male, since smiles most often was meant as something good.

"Okay", Chase said.

And he did.


End file.
